


The Mind's Eye

by DoctorPea



Category: British Actor RPF, Sherlock (TV) RPF
Genre: Dildos, M/M, Rimming, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-18
Updated: 2012-07-18
Packaged: 2017-11-10 06:11:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorPea/pseuds/DoctorPea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme: "Mark Gatiss fucking himself with a dildo thinking about Rupert Graves/Martin Freeman".</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mind's Eye

God, this was wrong.

Mark took a deep breath and nudged the very tip of the dildo into himself. It was dripping with lube, which was just as well as he otherwise hadn’t prepared himself at all. It wouldn’t have been right, he thought, as he felt cold, fat droplets sliding over his buttocks and landing on the sheets. It was almost as if taking the time to slowly stretch himself, one finger at a time, and all the while thinking of _them_ , would have made this too private, too intimate, a type of wrong that he did not want to contemplate. Besides, the slow burn of the stretching muscles was painful in a way that wasn’t altogether unpleasant.

He closed his eyes against the dim light of the bedside lamp and drew his knees further up towards his chest. Slowly but steadily, he inched the dildo into his body. Once he had managed to slide the head in, the dull pain mostly receded and he could let his mind wander. Eventually, it hit on the scenario that had been driving him mad these past few days. There was no artifice to it, no attempt to explain the situation, no back-story to rationalise it; all he could see were the naked forms of Martin and Rupert, standing inches apart and letting their hands roam over each other’s bodies.

A halting moan escaped from deep in his chest as the dildo stroked over his prostate. Taking a deep breath, he smoothly thrust it in the rest of the way and for a moment, all mental images vanished. Having used only lube and nothing else before amplified the feeling of fullness gloriously, and he stayed like that for a while, dildo buried up his arse to the hilt, and revelled in the sensation.

When he felt he could think again, he focussed his mind’s eye back on the two naked men caressing each other. With his free hand, he reached down to lightly stroke his cock.

“Not yet.” Ian’s voice was low but insistent. “I want you to fuck yourself on the dildo first.”

Mark moaned, properly this time, and complied, sliding the dildo in and out of himself in shallow strokes.

“Are you thinking of them yet?” With his eyes still closed, Mark could only hear Ian cross his legs, but he could picture him perfectly, sitting in his chair only a few feet away, the very picture of restraint apart from the look in his eyes. _That_ look. The one that was piercing and predatory, and that would be unsettling in its intensity were it not for the soft smile on his lips. _I want to devour you_ , that look said, _and I will_.

“Yes.” His voice was rougher than he’d expected, all grit and gravel and sitting low in his throat.

“Good. Tell me what you see.”

The dildo slid in much more smoothly now, in a nice, steady rhythm. Mark exhaled shakily. “Touching. They’re touching each other.”

“Go on.” There wasn’t a quaver in Ian’s voice, he sounded smooth and confident. And insistent. _Fuck_ , Mark thought.

“All over. Martin… Martin’s running his hands over Rupert’s chest.”

“And…”

“They’re kissing. Rupert’s kissing Martin, and it’s – fuck – slow. Deep.”

This is so wrong, Mark thought again, wrong and horrible, and unprofessional, and—

“Don’t stop.” Jesus, the bastard actually sounded _indulgent_.

“Martin’s wanking Rupert off – no, sucking him off. He’s on his knees; he’s sucking Rupert’s cock.” He definitely wasn’t going to last long. He was fucking himself fast and rough with the dildo now, and he had to bite down hard on his lip and grip the sheets with his free hand to avoid touching himself.

“Is that all,” Ian asked, voice light and playful. “Is that why you’ve been running around with a hard-on for the last two days? A blow-job?” Mark opened his eyes.

A wolfish smile spread across Ian’s face. “Go on,” he whispered, “tell me.”

Mark groaned wantonly and pushed his hips down hard on the dildo. Fucking _fuck_. “He’s— Rupert’s bending him over,” he panted, chest heaving with each breath. “He’s pushing Martin down onto all fours, onto the bed. He’s, oh God, he spreads Martin’s arsecheeks, and licks him, licks right over his hole, and—“ The word dissolved into a desperate moan. “He’s licking him; he’s got his tongue inside him and he’s fucking his arse with his tongue – fuck, he’s fucking Martin with his tongue—“

There was a hot, wet mouth on his prick, sucking with familiar pressure, and Mark came with a shout, writhing on the bed, thrusting the dildo as far into him as he could.

For the longest time, Mark simply lay sprawled on the bed, eyes closed, breathing. He could feel Ian carefully removing the toy, then lying down beside him, still fully dressed, and running his fingers over Mark’s chest.

When he could move again, Mark turned towards Ian and kissed him soundly. Ian smiled into the kiss.

“That was really fucking hot,” he murmured against Mark’s lips, and rolled his hips, pressing his erection demandingly against Mark’s thigh.

“Jesus, give me a moment, will you,” Mark chuckled, “you’ve just completely destroyed me.”

“I know.” And if that wasn’t the smuggest bloody smile that Mark had ever seen.


End file.
